<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>What's in a Secret Identity? by menel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463659">What's in a Secret Identity?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel'>menel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Humor, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mugging</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:14:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Lieberman is way too smart for her own good, as Matt and Frank both find out. </p><p>Written for the 2020 Fratt Week prompt, 'family.'</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle &amp; Leo Lieberman, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock &amp; Leo Lieberman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fratt Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What's in a Secret Identity?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>One last late submission for Fratt Week. I couldn't resist. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Matt wasn’t sure how it had come to this . . . except it had . . . somehow. </p><p><i>Great argument, counselor</i>, he thought to himself as he took his seat. He’d come straight to the park from work. Although the grandstands were under the shade of some trees, Matt felt the muggy heat. Summer was clinging longer this year, refusing to give in to autumn. Beside him, Frank was dressed in casual clothes. Jeans, a T-shirt, a jacket and a baseball cap. He fit in. The other parents around him were in similar casual wear. Was Matt really the only person wearing a suit? </p><p>The answer was probably ‘yes.’</p><p>Matt took off his jacket and loosened his tie. He draped his jacket across his lap before unbuttoning the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt and then rolling those sleeves up to his elbows. His foldable cane rested on the wooden grandstand seat beside him. When he looked settled, Frank handed him a hotdog and a soda. Then Frank was on his feet again, cheering with the other parents as the ball sailed over a defender’s head and the runner rounded the bases. </p><p>“Go Pop Tarts!” Frank yelled. </p><p>The cheering reached another level when the runner scored.</p><p>“You forgot ‘evil’,” Matt told Frank, when the other man sat beside him again. He was thankful for the hotdog. He’d skipped lunch that day and Karen had berated him for it. </p><p>“Evil Pop Tarts is a clever name,” Frank conceded, leaning over and swiping Matt’s soda. “But it don’t exactly roll off the tongue when you’re cheering. Too many syllables.” </p><p>“I’m surprised that’s the official name,” Matt admitted. “I can’t imagine the schools in my neighborhood calling one of their softball teams ‘The Evil Pop Tarts’ when I was growing up.” </p><p>“Time’s they are a changin’ Red,” Frank said.</p><p><i>They were</i>, Matt thought, letting the sounds of the game wash over him. It felt strange being with all these other families. This was the sort of scene that was unfamiliar to him growing up. The blind kid always had to sit on the sidelines while the sighted people played their games. Matt would sit there with a book in Braille, using his senses to map the unfolding game before him, knowing that he had better skills than nearly all of the kids there but would never be able to show off those skills. One time a basketball had been thrown in his direction and the player it was intended for had missed the ball completely. There had been three seconds for Matt to decide whether he would catch the ball, dodge the ball, or take the hit. He took the hit. It’s what had been expected.</p><p>Frank, on the other hand, was right at home in this family environment. He was really into the game, cheering his heart out. His enthusiasm was infectious. Matt observed Frank’s reaction and understood why Sarah Lieberman had called him. Zach was home sick, and Sarah didn’t want to leave him alone. David was out of town on assignment, which meant that no one was available to watch Leo’s softball game. Except Uncle Frank, who was known as Uncle Pete out in public. And apparently, Matt who now knew the Liebermans thanks to Frank’s introduction when Sarah had been looking for a lawyer to sue the pants off their next-door neighbor. (The lawsuit never came to fruition since Mr. Asshole Neighbor was so intimidated by Matt that he was willing to settle out of court.) Matt won over everyone in the family instantly. He and Frank had had dinner with the Liebermans several times already. So, when Sarah called asking Frank if he’d be free to watch Leo’s game and bring her home afterwards, Frank had accepted and suggested that Matt might be free too.</p><p>“<i>Might</i>,” Matt had said, when Frank called him. “You didn’t accept on my behalf. You said I <i>might</i> be free.” </p><p>“C’mon Red,” Frank had cajoled. “Come to the game with me. Leo would love it if you were there. She really likes you.” </p><p>It had been strange hearing Frank plead (because there had been no doubt that Frank was pleading), which gave Matt a clue about how important this softball game was to him. So, Matt had agreed out of curiosity and because it was nice to see Frank invested in something so . . . wholesome. Dare Matt say it? Something so <i>normal</i>.</p><p>All of that explained why he was at a girls softball game of the Evil Pop Tarts (Leo’s team) against the Vixens. (<i>These names</i>, Matt thought. When did softball teams get so sassy?) Matt settled in. He cheered when Frank cheered; he grabbed a pretzel from a wandering vendor; Frank bought another soda (Matt couldn’t remember the last time Frank had had so much sugar); Frank provided running commentary when he wasn’t making himself hoarse from cheering. The game ended with the Evil Pop Tarts trouncing the Vixens by a score of 15 to 7. Afterwards, Leo bounded over to them, still on a high from the victory. </p><p>“You made it!” she said excitedly, throwing her arms around Frank. </p><p>“Great game, kiddo,” Frank said, returning her hug. “That was some pitching performance.” </p><p>Leo beamed. “Thanks,” she said. Then she turned to Matt. “Thanks for coming, too, Matt,” she added. “You probably had a busy schedule.” </p><p>“Nothing that couldn’t be re-scheduled,” Matt said. “Good game, Leo,” he added. “Frank gave me the blow-by-blow.” </p><p>“Thanks,” Leo said again. Matt could sense the heat that had pooled in her cheeks. Leo was blushing. “Do you guys mind if we grab some ice cream before heading home?” </p><p>“No team celebration?” Frank asked. </p><p>“We’ll have that later,” Leo answered. “Ice cream?” </p><p>“Don’t see why not,” Matt agreed.</p><p>The three of them wandered the park looking for an ice cream vendor. There were guys selling pretzels, hotdogs, cotton candy, popcorn, peanuts . . . but where was the ice cream? </p><p>“Over there,” Frank said, pointing.</p><p>Leo hadn’t abandoned the idea of ice cream, but she was being swayed by the freshly cooked popcorn. </p><p>“I’ll get the ice cream,” Frank said, indicating that Matt and Leo should stay with the popcorn vendor. “What d’ya want, Leo?” </p><p>“Pistachio.” </p><p>“One pistachio,” Frank repeated. </p><p>“Hey, what about Matt?” </p><p>“He takes vanilla,” Frank replied, before heading toward the ice cream vendor. </p><p>Leo turned to Matt. “Vanilla?” she repeated. </p><p>Matt shrugged, but he was grinning. “It’s a simple flavor,” he said, which in Matt-speak meant that vanilla was mild and smooth and didn’t explode on his tongue like the fancier ice cream flavors did.</p><p>Leo smiled in return, watching the newly popped kernels being poured into the container.  </p><p>“What size?” the vendor asked her. </p><p>“One large buttered popcorn, please,” Leo said politely.</p><p>It was while Leo was ordering that Matt heard it. A cry for help. A woman’s voice, here, in the park. Someone had snatched her bag and she was calling out, “Stop him! Stop him!” Matt tracked the sound. Rubber soles running away on gravel. Now on grass. Crossing a field. The bag-snatching had taken place on the other side of the park, too far away for Leo or Frank, for that matter, to have heard the woman’s cries. But Matt had heard. And now the bag-snatcher was headed his way. Matt grimaced and calmly walked along the path, his cane extended. </p><p>“Matt!” Leo called after him. “Where are you going?” </p><p>“Stay there, Leo,” Matt called back. “Wait for Frank. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”</p><p>As soon as Matt was behind some cover and out of Leo’s sight, he rapidly folded his cane and began to sprint in the direction of the thief. Matt intercepted the bag snatcher near the edge of the park just before he reached the street. He hurled his cane at the man, knocking him squarely to the ground. He quickly disarmed the man and was just about to pick up the woman’s bag when he heard two sets of footsteps running towards him, slightly labored breathing, the sound of leather holsters sliding against uniforms, and the weight of steel and bullets. The cops. </p><p>“Sir! Sir! Are you all right!” </p><p>Matt pretended to be dazed, picking himself up carefully. “Hello?” he said. </p><p>“Sir, is everything all right?” The second voice was closer now, almost standing next to Matt. “We’re police officers.” </p><p>“Officer,” Matt said, sounding relieved. “This man,” he gestured aimlessly behind him. “He slammed right into me.”</p><p>Matt heard the sound of handcuffs being taken out and then snapped on the unconscious man. The other officer was handing Matt his cane. </p><p>“You’re very lucky, sir,” the first cop said. “The man who ran into you was a thief that we were chasing. Looks like the collision knocked him out cold.” </p><p>“Very lucky,” Matt echoed. </p><p>The bag snatcher was regaining consciousness, quickly discovering that he was somehow in handcuffs. His protests were immediate. </p><p>“Will you be all right, sir?” </p><p>“Fine, fine,” Matt assured the cops. “Not even a bump on the head. Do you need a statement?”</p>
<hr/><p>As Matt headed back the way he had come, he met Frank and Leo on the path. They’d left the popcorn vendor and were coming to fetch him. Leo was the one who called out to him. </p><p>“Thanks for the ice cream,” Matt told Frank, taking the melting cone from him and immediately licking it. </p><p>“Everything okay?” The was an undertone in Frank’s voice that made the question more than what it appeared. </p><p>“Fine,” Matt said. </p><p>Matt tracked the cops and the petty thief. They were walking to a squad car parked on the street. He knew that Frank and Leo could see them. </p><p>“Told you he’d get caught,” Leo said to Frank. Then, to Matt, “We heard that a lady’s bag got snatched. I knew the guy wouldn’t get away with it.” </p><p>Matt smiled. “That’s very confident of you,” he said. </p><p>“Of course,” Leo replied, matter-of-factly. “I knew you’d stop him.” </p><p>Wait. </p><p>
  <i>What???</i>
</p><p>Matt didn’t react, and tellingly, Frank didn’t react either. They were just both very . . . still. </p><p>“Matt,” Leo went on, as if she were oblivious to the fact that both men had petrified into statues. “If I ask you a question, do you promise not to lie to me?”</p><p>
  <i>Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.</i>
</p><p>“See? I have this theory,” Leo said. She chuckled. “And on the surface, it sounds crazy. Like, <i>really</i> crazy. But I’ve thought about it a lot, and the more I think about it, the less crazy it sounds, y’know?” </p><p>There was a deep sigh on Matt’s left. </p><p>“What’s the theory?” Frank asked.</p><p>Leo leaned forward, dropping her voice. Her pistachio cone was melting in her hand. “I think Matt is . . .  <i>Daredevil</i>.” </p><p>
  <i>Fuck.</i>
</p><p>There was a stunned sort of silence on Frank’s end, so Matt picked up the conversation. </p><p>“And how did you arrive at that conclusion, Leo?” he asked, sounding like he was questioning a wayward defendant in court. </p><p>“Well, a couple of things led me to that conclusion,” Leo began, ready to present a methodical answer.</p><p>Frank had gotten over his initial shock and was now eating his chocolate ice cream to mask his distress. Matt took a cue from him and remembered his vanilla cone. </p><p>“First, we all know who Pete is . . .” Leo’s voice dropped again. “. . . and The Punisher doesn’t play well with others. Whenever he tries to team-up with someone else, it’s a total disaster. Except for Daredevil. Daredevil seems to be the only person that the Punisher can work with. There are news reports about their joint sightings. And whenever they work together, it’s . . .” Leo hesitated. “Well, it’s not a massacre. I think Daredevil’s a good influence on him.” She paused. “So, that’s the first bit of evidence. The Punisher and Daredevil know each other, and they’ve worked together, and they get along . . . mostly.” </p><p>She looked from Frank to Matt, waiting for an objection or a comment. When none came, she continued.</p><p>“Then one day Mom needs a lawyer. Dad knows some people, but Frank recommends you,” she said, addressing Matt. “Which makes sense because you were Frank’s lawyer. Are you still his lawyer?” </p><p>“I’m his attorney-of-record, so yes. You could say I’m still Frank’s lawyer.” </p><p>“You’re a good lawyer, by the way.” </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>“So, I didn’t think there was anything strange or suspicious about Frank recommending you,” Leo went on. “Like I said, it made sense. And then you kicked Mr. Brent’s ass.” </p><p>“<i>Leo</i>,” Frank said, warningly. </p><p>“Well, he did,” she replied indignantly. “And like I said, there wasn’t anything strange about Matt at first. It was only after, when Mom insisted you guys come over for dinner that I began noticing things.”</p><p>“Like?” Frank asked. He sounded tired, and a little resigned. </p><p>“Like the fact that you don’t seem to have many friends, Frank. You’re a really private person. Aside from Dad, and that guy Curt you sometimes talk about, and now Matt, I don’t think you have many friends. Except Matt’s different. <i>You’re</i> different around him. I mean, aren’t you two going out?”</p><p>Matt was officially dying inside. Leo was right. He and Frank had been together for a few months now, since they started teaming up more regularly, team-ups that Leo had apparently been playing close attention to on the news. Matt still wasn’t sure how it had happened, how things had shifted, changed, evolved between them. But it had. And what they had now was good. Really good. Except it was private. Theirs. They hadn’t told anyone, content to live these strange double lives that intersected when they became Daredevil and The Punisher.</p><p>Until Frank had recommended him to Sarah Lieberman. And Matt had won the case. And Sarah had invited them over to dinner to celebrate. And then those dinners became semi-regular things. And now that Leo was really forcing Matt to think about all this, he realized that the Liebermans were the only people to see Frank and himself regularly as civilians. <i>Together</i>. None of their other friends had actually ever seen them together. It made sense that the most observant Lieberman would pick something up, when no one else had even had a chance to observe.</p><p>Neither Matt nor Frank answered Leo’s question, but their silence was answer enough. Leo was licking her pistachio ice cream. <i>Her timing was impeccable</i>, Matt thought. Just like a trial attorney. </p><p>Frank had finished his ice cream. “You gonna finish that?” he asked Matt. Matt handed over his vanilla cone, even though Frank hated vanilla. It was that kind of afternoon.</p><p>“Anyway,” Leo said, when her pistachio cone was more manageable. “You guys are close. You work together – because crime-fighting is a kind of job, sort of – and I guess you play together, too.” </p><p>Frank nearly choked. Matt held back a smile. </p><p>“Leo,” Matt said, in his own trial attorney voice. “You’ve presented some compelling reasoning. But you still haven’t made the link as to <i>how</i> I could be Daredevil. Would a blind man be able to physically do the things that Daredevil is capable of doing?” </p><p>“Now, <i>that’s</i> the toughest point,” Leo conceded. “But honestly, Matt? Being blind? <i>Amazing</i> cover. I mean, who would suspect you?” </p><p>“You, apparently,” Matt pointed out.</p><p>“Well . . .” Leo preened a little. “First, I had to ask myself if you were really blind. Maybe it’s just an act. It would be an extremely elaborate act in order to cover a secret identity.” She shrugged. “But people have done extreme things before. Anyway, once I was convinced that you were blind, then I began asking myself if it was possible to still be Daredevil and be blind. And I realized, yes, it was possible.” </p><p>“How’s that?” Frank asked. </p><p>“Because . . . people are changing. We live in an age of <i>super heroes</i>. People have <i>superpowers</i>, like Spider-Man. Or they’re enhanced, like Captain America. Or they’re genius inventors with insane technology like Tony Stark.” Leo shrugged again. “When aliens invade New York City, anything seems possible these days.” </p><p>“And which group do I fall into?” Matt asked. </p><p>“Oh, you definitely have superpowers,” Leo said, so matter-of-factly that Matt almost laughed. “I don’t know how they work or what they do, but you gotta have superpowers.”</p><p>“And highly trained fighting skills,” Frank added. At Matt’s sharp look, Frank sighed. “Oh, c’mon, Red. She’s already put it together. I ain’t gonna lie to the kid and neither are you.” </p><p>“Red?” Leo questioned. </p><p>“It’s what I call ‘im.”</p><p>“Because of the red suit?” Leo laughed, delighted. “That’s so cute.” </p><p>“Trust me, Leo. It didn’t start out cute,” Frank said. </p><p>The reprimand was short and sudden. Leo shrank back a little, as though realizing that she may have crossed a line. </p><p>“It’s fine,” Matt said, breaking the sudden tension. His voice had switched from ‘trial attorney’ to ‘gently placating.’ “Leo, do you mind if I have some popcorn?” </p><p>Leo shook her head, holding out the large box of buttered popcorn. Matt dipped his hand inside, taking a few pieces and putting them in his mouth. The melted butter coated his fingers, heavy and oily to his heightened sense of touch. Leo was waiting for him to speak. </p><p>“Have you told anybody else about your theory?” Matt asked. </p><p>Leo scoffed. “Of course not,” she said. “What do you think I am? Stupid?”</p><p>“Far from it,” Matt told her seriously. “But it’s a dangerous secret to know,” he went on. “Daredevil has many enemies, so does the Punisher. Powerful people want to hurt us, and they’ll exploit any weakness they can find, including the people we care about. I’m not saying this to frighten you,” Matt added, listening to Leo’s heartbeat pick up, coupled with a dash of fear and anxiety from the sweat on her skin. “I’m saying this so you’ll remember to be careful.” </p><p>“Does Dad know who you are?” Leo asked, equally seriously. What may have begun as fun and games to her – outing Daredevil (and his relationship to the Punisher) – had turned into something more dangerous, more severe. </p><p>Matt shook his head. “No,” he said. “Maybe he’ll figure it out like you did. Maybe there’ll come a time when Frank or I will tell him, but until then . . . this is our secret. Okay?” </p><p>Leo nodded solemnly. “Okay,” she agreed. She offered the popcorn to Matt again, and Matt took a few more pieces. “I’m sorry, Matt, I didn’t mean –” </p><p>“I know,” Matt said, cutting her off. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you told us. That’s not the sort of secret you should be keeping to yourself.”</p><p>“You’re not mad?” </p><p>“No, <i>we’re</i> not mad,” Matt replied, careful to emphasize the ‘we.’ He slung an arm about her shoulders, guiding her in the direction of Frank’s parked pickup. “Truthfully, I’m kind of shocked.” </p><p>“You’re not the only one,” Frank agreed. “How good can your secret identity be if a teenager figured it out?” </p><p>“Oh, come on,” Matt argued, getting more popcorn. “Leo’s not your average teenager. Plus, she had distinct advantages.” </p><p>“Hey, Matt,” Leo spoke up. “Would you teach me self-defense?” </p><p>“. . .” </p><p>“. . .” </p><p>Matt sighed. “Let’s talk about that later, okay?” </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Fin.</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Everything belongs to Marvel and Netflix. No infringement is intended; no profit is being made.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>